Thursday, February 23, 2023

Oops, I Did It Again

     I married a man who believes that Britney Spears didn't deserve her money, and should have stayed under the conservatorship of her father. "She's mentally ill.", he said. "Oh, so mentally ill people aren't entitled to the money they earn?", I asked. "If they are mentally ill, no." he replied. "She wasn't too mentally ill to be out there making all that money, but she's somehow too mentally ill to have access to it?". Exasperated, he raised his voice and said, "You realize you're the only one in the room who even gives a shit about Britney Spears?!"

    It all started when the kids received gifts from Granny. Each kid received a plush llama, that once activated, danced and twerked to the song, "...Baby One More Time". Yes, I said a twerking llama. I wondered when they were made, and if Britney had gotten any of the money. I said to my husband, "Do your kids even know who Britney Spears is?" A collective "No" went up. "Well, she's a pop star, and back in the day, she was called The Princess of Pop-" "Who can't sing for shit" my husband interrupted, which I find hilarious, considering he insists on listening to Nirvana's "You Know You're Right" every. single. day. (Nothing against Kurt Cobain, but his paint-stripping vocals on that song do not give me warm fuzzies, but I digress) Actually, no one would argue that Kurt Cobain also suffered from mental illness; did he deserve the money he made? 

    Anyway, I tried to give an age-appropriate background story to the song now being played on repeat throughout the house (times three), and got to the conservator part and he interrupted. He said, "She married that guy. In Vegas." 

"Her childhood friend? For 55 hours before having it annulled? She was an adult. She got married on a whim. Does that mean she shouldn't have access to her own money?" (As a "city hall bride", myself, I found this logic disturbing.

    2007 found Britney in a rocky marriage, juggling a newborn and a toddler, suffering from postpartum depression, plus the tragic loss of a close, beloved family member. She was under tremendous pressure to perform, and also release a new album. Britney was in and out of treatment centers for drug use. Her divorce was finalized later that year. Britney's ex-husband posted on social media that he makes only $3,000/ month working as a DJ. He failed to mention the $40k/ month he's received/will continue to receive each month in spousal support. (That's over $7.5 million, to date.) Poor guy.

    My first husband had nothing nice to say, whatsoever, when it came to Britney Spears. That is, until he was visiting his best friend in Florida and realized a lot of her music was on his playlists. Then suddenly she was ok. But he still felt Britney's father was the best one to be put in charge of her $130 (now 60) million.

    This time around, what started out as an interesting conversation about fame, power, money, and mental illness quickly devolved into a fight about autonomy, mental illness, and whether or not a grown woman can be in control of the money she earns with her own talents. When you're dealing with a person like this, the "shut down", no matter how painful at the time, is merely an indication that you had a point and they didn't know how to respond. Hint to these personality types: a simple, "Hmmm I never thought of it that way" can go a long way, if your ego and pride will let you extend that olive branch.

Wednesday, December 30, 2020

Trapped

 This morning I let the dogs out and while they were out, I went to go pee. Then I washed my hands, and I've been trying to get in the habit of putting lotion on my hands afterwards, so my hands don't look like that of a crypt keeper. So I'm rubbing lotion on my hands and I got a little more than I had intended. And Arden starts talking to me from the other side of the door. I try to come out to talk to her, and I can't get the door open because my hands are too lotiony. So I quickly try to rub it in more, and try the door again. Nope, still too lotiony. Now, Arden is on the other side of the door hearing me try to open the door multiple times. I need to find new places for the lotion, so I start rubbing my elbows and my forearms. I try the door knob again, and it might have been okay, except I'd already smeared lotion on it twice. So I still can't open the door. Arden has now heard me try to open the door three times, so she says, "Are you stuck in there or something?". 

By now I'm laughing hysterically because I'm trapped in the bathroom, and the door isn't even locked. And I'm rubbing the lotion on my neck and my face and my belly (it didn't occur to me that I could have used a towel), and trying the door again. 

I should point out that at no time in this conversation did Arden try to help me out and open the door for me. She just kept talking. 

I finally got the door open. I'm greasy head to toe, and laughing at the whole thing and Arden says, "Are you drunk?!" 

It's 8am!!! 

And she thinks I'm drunk. Which is really, really funny. And kicks off renewed laughter.


They've been worried about me for a while now, but I'm sure they will be planning an intervention after this.

Tuesday, September 8, 2020

Hey, Ron! Look What Happened When Your 2nd Moved to Texas!

 Yeah, this is apparently how millennials do it these days. You just log on to social media and learn big news about friends and family.

Also, your eldest bought a house, but cannot host a big House Warming party because of the pandemic.